


tattoo.

by sapphirestylan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, angsty as fuck, its very short sry, previous Established Relationship, soulmate tattoo au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 16:44:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirestylan/pseuds/sapphirestylan
Summary: It's two years after One Direction ended, and Harry's moved on. So has Niall, except not in all the ways he'd like- but it's not his fault he's got Harry's name tattooed on his skin, is it?





	tattoo.

**Author's Note:**

> I like soulmate AUs too much so this is the result of that. This is a pretty short fic but it's one of my favorites that I've written, hope you enjoy it!

_“Niall? It’s Gemma. It’s...it’s about Harry.”_

Niall remembers the day he got his tattoo, the one marked by destiny’s needle in a way too cruel to be true. He remembers sobbing as he stared down at it, the new addition stark against his pale, bare skin, just below his ribcage. _Harry_ , in pretty curlicue letters. He’d clawed at it, tears blurring his vision, scrubbed at it so hard in the shower, water and soap and finally blood when he scratched too hard. But it didn’t go. These tattoos don’t go.

Just one day ago he would have been glad, he thinks. 24 hours ago he would have run to Harry and tackled him in a crushing hug and laugh about how he always knew his soulmate would be him. And Harry would kiss him hard and they would wait for the day he got the tattoo that told him his soulmate was Niall, too.

But only the day before Harry broke up with him. A day before, he shattered his heart and told him that if even after five years neither of them had gotten the tattoo that confirmed they were soulmates, then they weren’t meant to be. They were never meant to be anything more than friends. And as if to finalize his decision, Harry flew down to LA to stay indefinitely. No calls, no texts. So that was that, and Niall, eventually, learned to breathe on his own.

He still couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, though. Couldn’t face himself and take the fact that after five years of a relationship and five years of what he thought was the beginning of forever with Harry, the tattoo had finally appeared- except there was no relationship to salvage anymore. It came too late.

_One fucking day._

And a year and a half later, Gemma Styles called him.

“ _I- what?”_

_“He- he got his tattoo and he’s freaking out because-”_

_“Gemma.” Niall sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and cutting her off abruptly. “I don’t really want to know.”_

_“Niall, listen to me-”_

_“Why did you even call me in the first place?”_

_“Niall-”_

_“I don’t want to hear about who Harry’s in love with-”_ _  
_

_“NIALL!” Gemma’s voice is shrill, desperate, and he nearly drops the phone in shock. “You fucking_ idiot _, Niall, it’s_ you _. He has your name tattooed on his chest as of two hours ago and you need to come see him because he’s losing his shit. He thinks you hate him.” A pause, in which Niall loses his breath. “I didn’t know what to do.”_

_“Okay,” he whispers, feeling light-headed and suddenly very weak. “Okay, I’ll come. Where is he?”_

“He’s in there.” Gemma stands in the doorway of Harry’s London flat, hair mussed and worry etched in every sharp corner of her face. “We flew down when he called, didn’t take long.”

Niall nods, chest still numb with shock, and pushes gently past her, his heart pulling him along, heading towards the bedroom he still knows his way to. After drunken nights and giggling and kissing their way down the hallway...how could he ever forget?

“Niall?” He hears her call softly after him, and he glances over his shoulder. “Be gentle.”

And Niall--Niall doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he nods quickly and turns the knob as quietly as possible, only opening it a tiny bit- he can barely see in. He couldn’t ever be prepared for what’s inside.

“-I don’t know what to fucking do, mum, I've been so awful to him and now he hates me and he doesn’t want anythin’ to do wit’ me-”

“‘Course not, love. Gemma told me he’s coming right over now to see you, you’ll see.” Anne leans forward from where the two of them are sitting cross-legged on the bed to grab another handful of tissues.

“And what about Camille?” Harry stares down at the tattoo adorning his already heavily-inked chest and sniffling pathetically. “What the hell am I supposed to say to her?”

“You can tell her when the time comes, you don’t have to do it right this second.” Anne's gentle fingers brush Harry’s hair back from his forehead and he closes his eyes. What seems like hours passes before he speaks again.

“Niall’s soulmate isn’t me, either.”

Niall freezes where he stands, eyes widening in confusion. He wants, more than anything, to step into the room and reach out and touch him- comfort him, breathe the same air, wipe his tears away- but he can’t move.

“How do you know?”

“He-” Harry hiccups loudly. “I know he got his tattoo, mum,” he sobs, and Niall’s blood runs cold. “I asked Louis and he told me but he wouldn’t tell me who- and if it was me he would have told me which means it’s not me and-” Harry runs out of breath, burying his face in his hands, and Niall remembers very clearly blubbering to Louis over the phone about his tattoo. Louis didn’t quite understand, but he _knew,_  and that’s all that mattered- because he had told Harry. _Shit._

“You don’t know that for sure, love. It could still be you.”

Harry sighs heavily, leaning back against the wall and letting his head fall back, eyes fluttering shut. After a moment of hesitation, Niall clicks the door shut silently and waits a heartbeat before knocking gently on the frame.

He can hear faint rustling as Anne, presumably, gets to her feet. His heart stutters as the door opens, and her eyes widen instantly.

“Niall,” she murmurs, wrapping him in a hug. It feels warm and familiar, reminding him of his own mum, and if anything at least he squeezed a visit with Anne out of this. “So good to see you again.”

"It's good to see you too," he smiles, and Anne pats his shoulder comfortingly. "Is he in?"

“Yeah,” she nods briskly, stepping aside. “I’ll give you two a moment.”

After a whispered thank you, Niall nudges his way through the doorway. Harry catches his eyes, shoulders visibly stiffening.

“Why is he here?” He calls roughly, questioning his mother- who, unfortunately for him, has already disappeared into the kitchen. His gaze snaps back to Niall, now void of tears. “Why did you come?”

“Gemma called.” Niall replies, his voice too weak for his own liking as he shuts the door behind him. Niall inches gingerly towards him, and when Harry doesn’t make any move for him to leave, sits down on the edge of the bed. “Said you were flipping out cos’ you got your tattoo.”

“I was not,” Harry fires, but Niall raises an eyebrow.

“That's not what I heard.”

Harry's gaze drops to the bedspread, pensive and unusually solemn. “You didn't have to come if you didn't want to. I don't know what Gemma told you, but."

“I wanted to come,” Niall frowns. “I came for you.”

But Harry only scoffs slightly, shaking his head and turning his eyes away. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, Niall.”

“What?”

“I already know, okay?” Harry snaps, and the roughness in his voice takes Niall aback. “I know you have your tattoo and I know it isn’t me.”

“Alright, first of all,” Niall counters, feeling the blood rush to his ears. “You weren’t supposed to know. I told Louis with the expectation he wouldn’t say anything-”

“But he did!” Harry laughs hollowly, shaking his head. “He did.”

“Regardless,” Niall swallows the lump in his throat, the guilt settling there that tells him he should just tell him, tell him his soulmate is him and always was- but he needs to get this out first. “You were the one who broke up with me, Harry. You broke up with me because neither of us got the tattoo, and besides- even if...if you were my soulmate too, that doesn’t mean I still love you like that.”

“I was scared, okay?” Harry near whimpers, eyes watery. “I was scared that what we were doing was wrong- that our real soulmates were out there somewhere, waiting for us, and there we were. Five years, Niall, and nothing. I know you had your doubts, too.”

“Yeah, sure I had my doubts, Harry. Of course I fucking did, but that doesn’t mean- it doesn’t mean it wasn't real.”

“But it doesn’t mean anything without the-”

“How the fuck can you say that?” Niall snaps, his voice breaking, and Harry blinks at him, startled. “How can you even _believe_ that what we had meant _nothing_ because we didn’t have some stupid tattoo that told us we were right?”  

Harry inhales sharply, his eyes never leaving him. “I’m sorry.” Niall has to tamp down the bitter laughter rising in his throat, an acidic taste in his mouth. “I really am. I just want to start over, yeah? Give it a second go.”

“And you know what’s worse?” Niall forces out abruptly, seemingly ignoring his words and lifting his head. “The only reason you want me back now is because of the tattoo.”

Harry’s eyes narrow in confusion. “Well, yeah-”

“No!” Niall barks instantly, taking both of them by surprise. “It doesn’t matter that I’m your soulmate now, Harry, the reason you should want a second chance is _because you actually love me.”_ There's a faint ringing in his ears, anger and confusion and so many fucking emotions clogging up his lungs. “Not because you’re ‘supposed to.’”

Harry lets out a weak noise, the edges of his eyes rimmed in surprise and maybe regret.

“Fuck it,” Niall breathes, feeling as if steam could come out of his ears at any moment- he’s that angry. He tugs at the hem of his own shirt, taking a deep breath before pulling it off.

“Niall- what are you…” Harry’s words fall flat as Niall tosses his shirt to the floor and straightens up a little till he can look down at his midriff, at the name there that caused him so much pain. “Oh my god.”

A thin, faint pink scar runs across the letters from when he’d tried to remove it- barely noticeable, but it’s enough for Harry to notice, for his eyes to widen in hurt.

“Satisfied now?” He means for it to come out sharp, but his voice falters on the last word, betraying him.

Harry’s eyes are wider than he’s ever seen before, luminous in the dim light and full to the brim with shock. “It’s…” He reaches out a shaking hand to touch it, and Niall sucks in a sharp breath as his fingertips graze his skin. “Me. Your soulmate…” His eyes find Niall’s, wondering. “It was me all along.” The laugh he lets out is weak, forced, empty. “When?” He looks like he’s about to smile, the hint of his trademark dimples appearing.

“The day after you broke up with me,” Niall spits, flinching away from Harry’s touch. He means for the words to hurt, and they do. The smile is wiped cleanly from his face.

“Jesus-” Harry whispers, drawing his hand back in shock. He shakes his head, leaning away. “I’m sorry. So, so, sorry, Niall, I didn’t know-”

“Why would you?” Niall remarks drily, reaching for his shirt and throwing it on. “You left less than 24 hours after. Funny, innit? If you’d waited one more day to break up with me, you wouldn’t have.”  

“Please, Niall.” Harry begs, eyes glistening. “I just…”

“There is no second chance, Harry.” He stands stiffly, averting his gaze. “It's too late for that.” He pauses, staring down at his feet, before turning and reaching for the doorknob.

“For what it’s worth,” Harry says, voice quiet and pained. “I’m sorry. Truly.”

And Niall knows that if he opens his mouth, he’ll start breaking and he’ll give in. And that can’t happen. So he stays silent, opens the door, and leaves.

 

\---

 

“Are you sure?”

Niall nods firmly, mouth drawn in a tight line. “Promised Theo I’d visit him, so. Yeah.”

Anne smiles fondly at the mention of Niall’s little nephew, placing a hand on his shoulder as they walk towards his gate at the airport. She had offered the night before to let him stay for a couple of days, but he had politely declined, stating that he wanted to visit home since it had been a while. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but the bigger factor in his decision was that he wanted to spend as little time with Harry as possible.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love Harry, of course not. He was his best friend of five years, and more than that too, but he hadn’t quite forgiven him yet, and the pain was just too fresh. Both of them needed some time to heal, and they needed to do that alone.

Anne pecks him on the cheek as he beams and thanks her for letting him stay the night, agreeing to visit again soon. And then Harry is standing in front of him, and suddenly he can’t find a single word to say.

Harry’s eyes are dry today, his expression stoic and unreadable. Suddenly, he drops his eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitches, and Niall realizes he’s just barely holding back tears. And he’s has never been able to say no to a miserable Styles, so he lifts his arms up to hug him, and then Harry is rushing into his arms and squeezing him tight and he’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of _Harry_ so close, wrapped up in his arms. _Like it should be._ He thinks after all he’s been through, he can allow himself this, so he buries his face into Harry’s neck, breathing in his scent, the aching familiarity crashing into him.

Before he knows it, tears are pricking at the back of his eyes and honestly he isn’t sure what for. Maybe for what could have been. What they were supposed to be.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, pulling away slowly, brushing his palm over his eyes to rid any evidence of his emotion. He’s as breathtaking as ever, even with messy hair and pale skin and tired eyes, and the breath hitches in his throat as he nods.

“Me too, Haz.” He grips the strap of his bag tighter, dropping his eyes. “I’ll, uh- see you around, yeah?”

Harry nods quickly, turning away. “Safe flight.” And then he takes his mother’s hand and walks away, so Niall stands there, alone.

And he can’t stop thinking about Harry.

\---

It’s a short flight to Ireland. The bitter chill sneaks under even the thickest of his coats, and he can’t suppress his shivers. All thought of the cold is wiped away, however, when he spots Theo sprinting towards him on his chubby little legs.

“Ni!” His familiar shriek brings a wide smile to his face, and he drops to his knees to scoop up his nephew in his arms.

“Hi Theo!” He grins, hugging him tight and smacking a big kiss to his cheek, causing him to giggle.

“Missed you, Ni,” He says, poking his forehead with one finger and laughing.

“Missed you too, Theo.”

“Ni, ‘m hungry,” He announces promptly, wriggling out of his arms already as he beams.

“What’ve you been feeding him, then?” He laughs, grinning up at his older brother, who had followed Theo and was now standing in front of him.

“Long time no see, Nialler,” Greg chuckles as he pulls him into a light hug. “Da’s at the house, c’mon. He’s waiting to see you.”

Small talk ensues during the car ride towards Niall’s childhood home. He’s never been that close with his brother, and not much has changed over the last few years, especially since the band had formed.

“So, uh,” Greg begins, glancing at him in the passenger seat. “You came from Harry’s place, right?”

Niall nods tightly, setting his jaw. “I had to drop by for a bit. Something came up,” He mutters, staring firmly out the window. Greg gets the message and doesn’t say much more for the rest of the ride, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. Theo babbles quietly in the back, playing with his toys and complaining every so often about how hungry he is.

Niall jerks out of his haze as the car bumps up along the path an hour later, his eyes opening to take in the house. He’s home.

\---

“You know you can talk to me.” His father says pensively, tilting his beer bottle and watching the liquid swirl inside. “About anything.”

“I know that, Da,” Niall murmurs, tugging at the sleeves of his jumper. “It’s just...a sensitive subject.”

“So it’s about Harry.”

Niall lets out a humorless snort, flopping back against the sofa in defeat. It was dark outside, the joy at seeing his father again for the first time in months fading away to a kind of numbness he didn’t enjoy whatsoever. All he could think about was Harry, and he hated it. He should be putting Theo to bed or something, not waxing about how broken his heart was because of Harry to his father.

“How did you guess?” He mumbles, the corner of his mouth turning up in a bitter smile.

“Who else would it be?” Bobby replies, taking a sip of his drink. Niall rests his own bottle between his thighs as he stares at his hands, unable to do much else. The two sit in the silence, Niall’s gut churning uncomfortably. He needs to tell _someone,_ someone who would understand but who also wouldn’t judge him. The words come tumbling out of his mouth, then, before he has the chance to filter himself.

“Harry got his tattoo,” He says suddenly, and out of the corner of his eye he sees his father’s head jerk up to look at him. “You know. _That_ tattoo,” He adds quickly before he has the chance to reply ‘what else is new?’.

“Oh. And it’s...not you?”

“No,” Niall sighs, staring at his trembling fingers. “It’s me.”

“But you don’t have yours.” Bobby states, trying to understand the situation.

“No,” He says again, “I have mine.”

“What?” Bobby frowns, sitting up straighter. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I don’t know, I just…” Niall pushes a hand through his hair, elbows digging into his knees. “I don’t know. It was the day after he broke up with me, and then I got the fucking tattoo...I didn’t know what to feel, Da. It was horrible.”

Bobby frowns, taking another drink. “So why’re you all mopey? Thought you would be glad, now that it’s all official and everything.”

He shakes his head, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. “That’s the thing. We don’t- we don’t love each other anymore. And there’s no point to the tattoos at all if you don’t-” He cuts himself off before he gets to crying, pressing the heel of his palms to his eyes. Bobby doesn’t say anything as he collects himself.

His father’s words break the silence a few minutes later. “You’ll fix it eventually,” Bobby says evenly, and Niall lifts his head in confusion.

“What?” He scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean ‘we’ll fix it’? There’s nothing to fix, Da, there’s nothing _left-_ ”

“Yes, there is, Niall. You two have been through too much to just drop it all now, even if you don’t feel the same way anymore. It’ll take time,” He says gruffly, tapping his fingers against the bottle, “And a lot of time, at that, but I’ve got faith in you.”

 _What the hell?_ Niall shakes his head in disbelief, standing up and leaving his beer on the table. “You’re drunk, Da. Don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Niall-”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Niall repeats, his tone clear and every word sharp. “Goodnight, Da.” He snaps, instantly regretting it, stalking out of the room and heading towards his bedroom. He hears his father sigh in defeat behind him, hears the clink of the bottle as he sets it down on the table too.

The door shuts with a soft click behind him. Moonlight filters through the window, setting the room on a strange white fire that laps against his bare skin as he strips off his shirt, sitting gingerly on the edge of his bed.

_He didn’t know what he was saying. And even if he did..._

_I can’t fix it. He has to be sorry first, sorry for what he did. Maybe not even then. I don’t love Harry. I_ don’t fucking love him.

Niall stands on shaky legs, wincing as pain slices through his bad knee. It’s been better lately, but every so often it’ll remind him that it’s still infinitely messed up. He shuffles uneasily into the bathroom, scratching at his stomach and yawning. He’ll deal with his father tomorrow, he’s probably just drunk and- oh. _Oh._

A faded polaroid is taped neatly to the mirror. In it, Harry and Niall are kissing underneath mistletoe. The background is familiar- it was taken in this house, during 2014 when Harry flew over to Ireland to spend Christmas with him and his family. Almost exactly three years ago. His curls just barely reach his jawline, framing his face but not unruly enough to hide his trademark dimples as he smiles into the kiss. Niall’s arms are wrapped around his waist, and he’s grinning too, his blonde hair ruffled- probably by Harry’s fingers.

Niall takes the picture with shaking fingers, peeling the tape off the edge carefully. His heart is in his throat, brushing a thumb across Harry’s face in the photo. He wipes away his tears hurriedly, not wanting them to land on the picture, but he can’t help the sob that slips out. It hurts, like a knife twisting in his heart, looking at the people in this photo. These two people...they’re HarryandNiall. They’re in love, inseparable, head-over-heels. They _belong_.

But that’s not who they are anymore, and it hurts. Niall holds the picture tighter, sinking down to the floor and hugging his knees to his chest, struggling to steady his breathing and stop his tears from flowing. The cold settles in his bones, the silence finding a home in his mind, but he can’t bring himself to get up. He doesn’t have the strength to set Harry away and get up and make a life for himself, just the same as he can’t find the strength to pick himself up off the floor and get in his own bed.

So he stays.

\---

“Ni-all?” Theo’s voice jolts him out of his sleep. “Ni!” A tiny fist raps on the door, and Niall sits up, groaning loudly and pressing a hand to his head. He’d fallen asleep on the cold tile of the bathroom floor last night and hadn’t budged an inch. His limbs are sore, and his knee hurts most of all from his awkward position.

“I’m here, Theo, just give me a second, alright?” He grunts, using the counter to help him up on his feet. He’s still holding the polaroid from last night, the little picture pinched tightly between two fingers. He opens the door to find Theo waiting expectantly on the other side, his arms folded with impatience.

“Niiii, let's go,” He whines, grabbing at his hand with sticky fingers and tugging lightly.

“Good morning to you, too,” He laughs, the little blond head peering up at him. “What’re you in such a rush for?”

“It’s a surprise!” Theo giggles, leading him through the room and out into the hallway.

“A surprise? Whaddya mean it’s a surprise?” Niall frowns, doubt creeping into his voice. “Theo.” The front door is open, and he can see Greg and his father outside, can see the edge of a car on the drive as they talk animatedly to someone- someone, but he can’t see who it is.

“Hey, Ni!” Theo says suddenly, his eyes fixed on the picture in Niall’s hand. “What’s that?”

“What?” He murmurs distractedly, glancing down at it. “Nothing, Theo.” He moves it slightly out of his reach- despite all his bitter feelings towards Harry, he doesn’t want this last memory of what they had together crumpled up and ruined. “Who’s outside?” He asks his nephew, hesitant to follow as Theo hops out the door and shuffles down the front steps.

“Theo? Who’s there?” He calls again, but in vain- he’s sprinting towards the someone on the drive while laughing hysterically.

“Harreh!”

Just one word out of Theo’s mouth is enough to make Niall stop dead in his tracks. It’s an almost out of body experience as he takes another step past the house- and there he sees him. _Fuck._

Harry stands with his arms folded at the bottom of the drive, the green of his eyes glittering even from a distance. Niall has to fight to keep his attention off of how pink his lips are, or the way a single curl hangs over his forehead, or how good he looks in that jumper and the way his arse looks in those impossibly tight skinny jeans.

“The hell are you doing here?” He calls roughly, shoulders tense as he strides towards the group, pushing his thoughts out of his mind and focusing on _now_. Reminding himself why Harry doesn’t have the right to be here. He stops just a few feet from him, and for some reason it’s oddly comforting to learn he still smells like cinnamon.

“I came to see you.” He replies, voice low.

“Why?” Niall snaps, setting his jaw.

“Because we need to talk,” Harry fires back with just as much venom, tone sparking, “And you know it.” Theo’s head whips back and forth between them, blue eyes wide.

“Ni, why are you mad at Harreh?”

“Theo-” Greg cuts him off, lifting him up into his arms. “We’ll wait for you inside.” Niall gives them a curt nod as they file past him towards the house.

They wait until the door shuts, and then their attention snaps back to each other.

“What the _fuck_ , Harry.” Niall glares at him, folding his arms. “You can’t just show up here and expect me to- what? _Talk?_ About what?”

“Why are you angry at me?” Harry ignores his question, his voice strained. “We both said we were sorry, Niall, I just want to try and _fix_ this, and all you want to do is yell at me.”

“Damn right I do,” Niall laughs hollowly, eyes cold. “In all honesty, Harry, you deserve it. Alright? You-” He heaves a slow breath, calming himself down. “You _left_ me. Okay? Not the other way around. So I have every right to be angry that you suddenly want me back-”

“Niall,” Harry interrupts, and he’s taken aback by how calm his voice is. “The reason that I want to fix things now is because I love you.”

 _I love you._ It takes a moment for Niall to register the words, but when he does, he refuses to believe it. “No,” He says sharply, shaking his head and taking a step back. “You don’t- you don’t love-”

“Niall, just listen to me.” And he can’t argue with that, so he snaps his mouth shut and falls silent. Harry runs a shaking hand through his hair, preparing himself. “I love you, okay? I didn’t stop loving you, either, even when I left you like that. I was scared out of my mind that I was doing everything wrong and that we were making a mistake by being together, I was _so_ scared, Niall. And I know that does nothing to justify what I did, nothing can...But I still loved you. Even when we broke up, and I’ve loved you for every day- every _minute_ of the two years we’ve been apart.” Niall can feel the tears running down his cheeks, but he can’t be arsed this time to wipe them away.

Harry takes a deep breath, ducking his head down to hide his own puffy, red eyes. “I’m asking you to forgive me,” He whispers, his words nearly blown away in the breeze. “Please.” And his voice breaks along with Niall’s heart- because really, he could never stand to see Harry cry.

So he’s not faking it or doing it for Harry’s sake this time when he opens his arms and breathes out a sigh of relief when Harry hugs him tight. This time, he’s truly home when he breathes in his familiar scent and kisses his neck and doesn’t let go and whispers _I love you too_ into his hair.

Harry pulls away breathlessly, tears still shining in his eyes as he cups Niall’s face in his freezing, trembling hands. “Can I kiss you?” He breathes, the wind tugging at his hair, and although his eyes are red and his skin is pale and he has bags under his eyes, he’s the most beautiful he’s ever seen him. Niall barely breathes out a _obviously_ before his lips are on his and the only thing he can think is _Harry Harry Harry._

The feel of his pink lips underneath his own are as familiar as ever, warm and moving against his with just a hint of desperation. He nips lightly at his lower lip, pleased to learn he can still easily elicit a quiet moan from him. Harry moves closer till their chests are pressed flush together, his hands snaking around his waist to rest at the small of his back, warm and comforting.

Niall pulls away eventually, instantly wishing he hadn’t, the December chill creeping up quickly along his spine. Harry’s still staring at his lips, and is most likely thinking of stealing another quick snog when he speaks. “We should go inside, I’m freezing.”  

Harry dips his head a little, and Niall has the sudden urge to kiss the dimple that appears. “What’s that?” And then Harry’s fingers are pressing into his pocket of his jeans to retrieve the photo he’d tucked in there before he’d started talking to him. He sucks in a sharp breath, and Harry grins like the little shit he is as he pulls it out, but the smile falls away within seconds. Niall can’t seem to take his eyes off of him as he stares down at the picture, so close to him he can hear his breath hitch in his throat as he brushes a thumb over the Niall in the picture- the same way he had just last night to the Harry in the picture when he found it.

“You- you kept this?” His voice is raw, trembling as he glances up at him.

“Yeah. I, uh. Found it in the house yesterday.” He coughs lightly, pushing his hands into his pockets and resting his weight on one hip. His breath is taken away again as Harry kisses him one more time, this time softer and more hesitant.

“I don’t know,” Harry whispers, stroking a thumb over Niall’s cheekbone, his eyes wide, “If there are enough words to tell you how sorry I am for ever hurting you.”

Niall stares down at his feet, feeling the bitter cold like knives against his skin as Harry pulls his hand away slowly. “It’s okay, Harry.” He murmurs, feeling a storm of confusing emotions swirl around in his mind- but mostly, in his heart. “I’m forgiving you, yeah? Startin’ to, anyways. Think it’s time we move on.”

Harry nods slowly, reaching for his hand and taking it with gentle fingers. “We should go in. ‘S getting cold out here.”

So Niall lets himself be led into the house, a tiny smile playing on his lips all the while. The bitterness he’d held for Harry for so long is still there- and he knows it’ll take time for it to fade away- but more than anything, he feels love. Love for the gangly-limbed, gorgeous, miscommunication-prone boy holding his hand. For the one he’s always come back to, despite his best intentions. For the one that makes him feel like no one ever has and ever could, the one he _knows,_ deep in his heart (although he’s not quite ready to process it yet) is the man he wants to spend every minute of the rest of his life with.

And that’ll always be enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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